


A Morning Moment

by commo_vente



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Affectionate Danse, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, POV Male Character, Post-Betrayal, Potty Humor, Romance, Sexually Suggestive, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, Synth acceptance, a lil angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-13 23:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7143734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commo_vente/pseuds/commo_vente
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danse contemplates his life as he admires FSS while she's in the shower, and he finds a muse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Morning Moment

In his life, there were always three constants: discipline, a strict moral code and his duty to the only thing that ever mattered, the Brotherhood of Steel and cleansing the Commonwealth. Despite his rough exterior, he always had the ability to instill pride in his initiates when it came to adopting Brotherhood ethics and exemplifying outstanding military technique in the battlefield. With the Brotherhood, came a purpose and Danse felt as if he would never have to want for another type of life again. He had spent most his youth doing that already and the Brotherhood was his saving grace. 

That all changed when he found out the truth. And it was a hard truth to accept. He had lost everything. 

Swiping the steam away from the bathroom mirror, he picked up his razor, the blades glowing in the dim morning light. Looking at himself in the mirror, he let out a deep sigh. He was exhausted. Danse had never been one to give into exhaustion, but somehow the mental kind was proving to be more difficult than ever before. He was feeling more civilian each day. “Life always changes,” he muttered. He glared back at his reflection, suddenly feeling unrecognizable and plain.

His pained reflection suddenly shifted as Lydia strolled in, yawning and stretching her long arms above her head. “G’morning, soldier,” she said, the throaty air of her sleepy voice sounded like a loon calling to the sunrise. She took off her shirt and as she raised her arms, without turning his head, Danse took this moment to appreciate the woman in his reflection. She undressed herself, merely going about her day with a morning shower, not thinking of anything besides the routine of it; yet Danse thought she must have no idea what it meant for him. Each morning she would shower while he stood by the sink.  
Her routine was more like a ritual to him; it was always an observance of something sacred. Early on, Lydia once jokingly called him a prude, accusing him of looking as if he were, “about to have a cow” anytime she stripped in front of him. The first morning she ever sauntered into the bathroom while he was there she pulled her pants down and peed while he shaved in the sink next to her. He had nicked his cheek out of surprise while uttering an unintelligent garble of words. This, "b-b-breech of decorum" as Danse so eloquently labeled it, was quickly shrugged off when she looked at him with sleepy amber eyes and simply chuckled while on the toilet. "Jesus, don’t have a cow, Danse!" 

He still couldn't understand what the heck a cow was. She always had a full arsenal of pre-war humor to throw his way.  
But he supposed it was partly true. Spending most of his life with his mind on a mission left little room for romance. It wasn’t until she came running around the corner of the police station in Cambridge with guns blazing in that tight little jumpsuit, did he find a reason for his mind to linger from the Brotherhood. Lydia, this gorgeous woman who was currently showering behind him, had helped him in so many ways. When she accepted him with open arms, fought for his honor and denied Maxson any right to his life, it was beyond belief. He surrendered himself to his desire for her right then and there, and that night after many reassurances on her part, he discovered a new level to existence.  
Danse could feel love. He could feel it throughout his entire being when he was with her and when he was away. That has to count for something.  
Moments like this he savored her reflection, openly admiring the supple curves of her thick hips, the swell of her full breasts and the sacred space between her thighs that he always adored. When she squeezed a homemade hubflower potion onto her hair slicking it up and smoothing it out, he yearned to step behind her and run his fingers through her raven locks. Her eyes were closed in this moment, a peaceful look on her features, maybe she was trying to recall the fleeting details of her fading dreams—

Maybe she was thinking of him.

For many weeks after he lost his identity and the Brotherhood, Danse couldn't help but get pulled back into that dark place he once found himself while hiding in Listening Post Bravo with a gun in his hand. Those were the darkest hours of his life, the weakest he ever felt. If she hadn't shown up that night wanting to save him he might have pulled the trigger. He might have expelled his brains onto the cold concrete wall for her to find later on. Mornings like that were almost unbearable.  
The day after she had found him staring at the bathroom mirror, tears in his eyes and a razor-blade at his throat, was the day she began meeting him in the bathroom, meshing their morning routines together. He suspected later on she was keeping an eye on him, though she never said that. As long as he’s known Lydia, he knew she was very protective and loyal to her loved ones. And now that he was one of her most cherished, as she calls him, thanking the heavens for this woman was also part of his daily routine. 

He was accosted from his musings when she caught him staring intently at her reflection; she winked at him and with a curl of her finger, signaled him to come forward. The stern Paladin might have looked away quickly in embarrassment if this was the old Danse. He might have felt flushed as a shade of red stained his cheeks, maybe even pretend he wasn't looking, perhaps even berating her for her come on.  
But now he was looking at her—and he saw everything. There was no inch of her body that he hadn't explored with his touch or sight. No kiss that hadn't been placed on her long neck or the delicate skin of her eyelids. He grinned at her reflection and turned around, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. He made his way towards the shower, keeping his eyes on her, never shying away.  
These days, Danse was learning to not feel guilty when she caught him admiring her. No, he was not afraid while he had her by his side. He was not ashamed or confused as to why she would love a thing like him—a man like him. She deserved to see every heated look, every deeply considerate gaze that fell upon her when he worshiped her in the morning. 

“You’re beautiful” he whispered in her ear as he placed a longing kiss on her wet, smiling lips.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first FO4 fanfic. I'm not sure how to work this site yet, my indents and italics were changed as soon as I posted my story. I'll figure it out, soon.
> 
> Also, I adore Danse. Thank you for reading. Comments/critique welcomed.
> 
> commo_vente


End file.
